Halloween: blogged. 

A Magritte painting was hysterical on our kitchen floor.
We bought three pumpkins and didn't carve 1.
The soundtrack was scottish bagpipes resonating through a stunned and unsure crowd in a smokey bar.
Two girls danced, but not for long.
And the walk home seemed longer than before.

Cum inside, they said, the party is just getting started.
Hoeing down to Duelin' Banjos
And going home at 1:30 because the 5-0 put the kybosh on University students with blacked out teeth and bare feet drinking whiskey and waking up the neighbours.
Santa's kind, plastic face will never be the same.

We didn't buy any candy for the neighbourhood children.
And Mira still doesn't want to carve the stupid pumpkin.
Hocus Pocus was already rented and I'm feeling sad.

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